


static in my mind (has it always been this cold?)

by ifonlyicouldwrite



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicide, Suicide Attempt, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), again this fic may be upsetting to some ppl so please be careful, everyone is sad tbh, ghostinnit, im so sorry to everyone who followed me for Not This content lol, no beta we die like wilbur, uhhh probably, wow look at me im actually writing multiple chapters what a miracle haha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifonlyicouldwrite/pseuds/ifonlyicouldwrite
Summary: Tommy was alone. He was tired, and he was scared, and he wished the static in his mind would just stop already.His loyalty may have been unwavering, sure, but what's a loyal person without anyone to be loyal to?(Or, Tommy loses his purpose, and everyone has to deal with the aftermath)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 234
Kudos: 1576





	1. the loss of a purpose

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE BEWARE OF TRIGGERS (cw/ suicide, fire/burning mention, death, cursing)!!
> 
> watch out if you're uncomfy with these!! please take care and have a nice day <3
> 
> national suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255 (please take care y'all)
> 
> that said, here we go!! this is a morbid one, but my mind wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote it out, so I hope you enjoy lmao

It had only been a few weeks since he had been exiled, but Tommy felt as though he had already spent years in solitude. Dream came around a few times to burn his things and chat a little, but his presence was seldom welcome. The Badlands checked up on him a bit, but they hadn’t visited in many days, and Tommy was beginning to feel like he’d never see them again. Ghostbur’s presence was… conflicting.

On one hand, he kept Tommy company, and his hugs—though cold and barely tangible—were the only thing that seemed to push back the numb feeling that had been encroaching his mind.

On the other, some days Tommy would look at his hollow, smiling face, and he’d hear Wilbur’s old voice ringing in his mind. Those days were always the shittiest. The static was always louder on those days. Tommy wondered if he’d get used to it.

He sat on the top branches of an old oak tree, looking out into the sunset. The sky was blood-red, and Tommy couldn’t help but think of all the times he’d watched the very same scene on the bench with Tubbo. Tommy didn’t like to think of Tubbo too much, nowadays. It always made the static louder, memories playing like films in his mind.

_He’d drop us at the second he realized we weren’t in the lead!_

_Tommy, you are hereby exiled._

**_The disks don’t matter, Tommy!_ **

Tommy thought of the disks, instead. That train of thought proved to be just as miserable. Wil— _Ghost_ bur had asked him why he cared so much about the disks one more time before he left out to visit New L’Manberg for Christmas. Tommy hadn’t answered.

How could he explain what the disks had become to him? How could he explain that fighting for the disks was all he ever knew? How could he explain that they were his _reason to keep going_? How could he, when that reason seemed lackluster even to himself?

_No reason to live is lackluster_ , he tried to argue in his head. _A reason is a reason, and if the disks keep me going, I should keep fighting for them._

**So, what? I’m just going to keep suffering alone for the promise of a few pieces of plastic?** The static was back, its poisonous words echoing in his mind. It sounded like an overlap of voices, scratching like a damaged vinyl. **Maybe they were right. Maybe—maybe the disks** **_don’t_ ** **matter.**

_No, they definitely do, they’re all that’s ever_ —

**They. Don’t. Matter.** **_Nothing_ ** **does. They… they were fucking right!** **_Nothing matters anymore_ ** **. I have** **_nothing_ ** **. No friends. No home.**

_That’s not true! There’s Ranboo and the Badlands! And Logsted and L’Manberg! And… Tubbo…_

Tommy barely heard the hollow laugh that escaped from his lips—barely felt the tears streaming down his cheeks. The sun was nearly gone, and the campsite below him remained desolate and dark.

**Ranboo and the Badlands?** **_Please!_ ** **It’s only a matter of time before they throw me away like everyone else, before they get tired, before they see me for the “liability” I am. For fucks sake, even Ghostbur’s left me! And Logsted? Don’t make me laugh. This… this** **_isn’t_ ** **home. L’Manberg… that isn’t—** **_can’t_ ** **be home anymore. It…** **_can’t_ ** **. It’s not. As for Tubbo? Ha, he doesn’t even see me as a friend anymore. He hated me so much, he fucking** **_exiled_ ** **me. He** **_never_ ** **cared. No matter how much I always have.**

_He… doesn’t? He…_ **_never did_ ** _. So then…_ **_what’s the point_ ** _?_

For the first time since his departure, his mind was quiet. The jarring stillness washed over him, not a single sound in his earshot except for the gentle lapping of the waves on the empty shore.

Tommy felt… unsure. All along, he’d had a purpose to push him through the rough times—something for him to get up again. Without a purpose, without a point, without a person beside him to promise it’d be okay… what did he do?

_The lava below him entranced him, and the static was louder than ever. It_ **_hurt_ ** _, and he wanted to_ **_stop hurting_ ** _. Dream grabbed his shoulder and the static quieted down a bit. Tommy walked away._

Tommy didn’t register as he climbed down the tree, eyes blank.

_He asks them how to know when it’s too much, but no one replies. He’d notice the silence if the noise hadn’t gotten so loud. Tommy moved on._

Tommy barely realized he'd walked into his small tent, quietly rummaging through his chest.

_He wants to go home for Christmas. He wants to see his friends. He wants to apologize. He asks Dream again. Dream says no. Tommy barely hears his reply over the buzz. Tommy cries once they’re gone._

He snatched the first book he saw, scribbling away the title previously written in ink and slowly writing his last words. 

_Dream says he’d kill him. He says he doesn’t care. He feels the blood pouring down his clothes, and the pain wins over him. The static is still manageable compared to death. He promises Wilbur he was wrong; that he does care. Tommy wonders if it’s a lie._

First, a letter to Ghostbur—the only person who’d probably mourn his death. Next, to Ranboo and the Badlands—his only allies in the end. Next, Quackity and Fundy—his friends up until his exile. Phil and Techno—his family in blood, though it often seemed as though they weren’t a family at all. Niki, and Sapnap, and everyone he’d ever cared for—even if he knew, now, they never cared for him.

The static seemed to numb for each word he printed onto the paper, but it still felt as though he were stalling as he signed off each letter. He wasn’t sure why until he got to his last.

Tubbo. His best friend. 

He almost didn’t write anything at first, his quill hovering over the paper, unmoving. Tears splashed onto the blank page, but Tommy paid them no mind.

**Can't even come up with a proper goodbye, huh? What the fuck am I meant to say to someone who may not even mourn my death?** _  
_

_I… I want him to know I’m sorry. And—and I don’t blame him. And I’ll miss him. And I’m sorry._

“That’s a start…” he whispered to himself, his hoarse voice momentarily disrupting the quiet. 

By the time he had signed the book of letters, sealing away his last words, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Tommy took the book in his hand and said his final goodbye to Logstedshire.

He wiped away the last of the tears on his cheeks as he walked through their nether portal, clutching the book tightly. Sweltering heat swam across his skin as he sprinted across the bridge, but Tommy still felt cold as ice. _L’Manberg was right there_. All he had to do was go through the portal to see it one last time. A part of him feared he’d lose his nerve if he saw it, but the other knew he was too far gone.

_I just want to see the Christmas tree, and then I’ll go. I’ll go for good. On my own. I won’t give Dream the satisfaction of taking the one thing I have left._

He stepped through the purple gateway and the air left his lungs. He was finally ~~home~~ there. He could finally see the tree. He could finally walk the ground he missed so dearly. 

He took a few paces on the prime path, but instead of the joy he had expected, he felt a greater pain with each step. Everyone was somewhere else, probably celebrating together. The streets were empty. Tommy was still alone. The one thing he truly missed were the people he’d already said goodbye to. The people he would never see again. 

A sob erupted from his lips, quickly muffled by his shaking hands. He ripped off the green bandana he wore around his neck and the torn-up jacket he had stolen from Wilbur, throwing both on the ground next to the book for someone else to find in the morning. He shivered without the jacket hugging him any longer, but he figured at least they’d all know he defied Dream one last time before his demise.

“See you later,” he whispered shakily, not even bothering to scrub his face clean of tears again. He turned his back on his old life as he ran into the nether, desperate to be free of the pain. The lava called to him once more, the static crescendoed, and _Tommy just wanted it to_ **_stop_ **.

_I wonder if the lava will finally stop the shivering. Maybe it’ll feel like a real hug. Maybe the_ **_cold_ ** _will finally_ **_leave_ ** _._

Teeth gritted, he took a step further towards the ledge of the bridge. He stood for what may have been hours.

_It’s too late to turn back. Dream will have my head either way. I won’t give him the satisfaction of taking my last life. I’m sorry Tubbo, Ranboo, Wil…_

Hands shaking, he stood on the very edge, looking onto the fiery orange below him. Time was passing, but Tommy didn’t notice. 

_Ghostbur is always happy. The pain can end now. The cold can end now. This can end now. It… it has to._

“Tommy?” The voice came from behind him, familiar, yet frail and filled with concern. He turned back to face the portal where Wilbur stood, head tilted. 

“Wilbur,” Tommy’s voice cracked, “what are you doing here?”

“I… I could ask you the same thing. Tommy, why are your things in front of the portal? How did your things get into L’Manberg?” Ghostbur was smiling, but Tommy could tell how pained it was. He sighed.

“Wil, do you remember? Do you remember your death?”

“Well, yes, but Tommy what does that—”

“Do you remember what it felt like to lose your purpose?” Tommy paused, but the ghost didn’t answer. He instead began to reach out his hand, forced smile long forgotten. “Do you remember when you asked why the disks were so important, Wil? I figured it out. But, the thing is… they’re… _not_ . They’re not fuckin important anymore. Isn’t that great? They don’t matter to me now. _Nothing_ matters to me now. No more fighting, no more selfishness, no more liabilities, no more annoyances. _Isn’t that great?_ ”

“Tommy could you _please_ step away from the—”

“Do you remember, Wil, that one line? First spoken by a traitor—by Eret. Then by another—by you. Do you remember, Wilbur?”

“ _Toms please don’t_ —”

Wilbur was moving quickly towards him, but Tommy knew he’d never make it in time. He gave a teary smile and a salute as the ghost’s eyes widened.

“It was never meant to be.”

* * *

_TommyInnit tried to swim in lava_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more chapters written, but I'm not sure if anyone would want to see them either way so idk!! I might post the second one later today if I get bored lmao


	2. the loss of a brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy at least, like, five people wanted to see more, so here's the second chapter!! uh, there's not really much of a plot planned out and I'm kinda writing this on a whim, so please don't expect consistent uploads :( that said, I hope you enjoy, and have a nice day!!
> 
> (please take care and be mindful of the triggers <3)

Eret hadn’t expected to see anyone away from the main crowd on Christmas. He’d gotten a bit overwhelmed by all the people there and decided to call it a day early to head back to his castle.

However, his calm was disrupted when he heard rushed footsteps coming from behind him as he passed the community house. He waited in the silent darkness for another sound, warily sneaking back towards the source of the noise to get a view of what was going on.

Eret watched as a familiar figure threw a few items down on the floor and whispered a tremulous “see you later” before running straight into the nether portal. Dread pooled in his stomach as he neared the abandoned objects, finally recognizing who they belonged to.

_Tommy, what on earth have you done now?_

* * *

Ghostbur was not having fun. Each day, Tommy seemed less and less like himself, and it pained the ghost to see the way misery seemed to keep piling up on top of his little brother. Nothing he did worked anymore. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t seen Tommy smile in days. He’d hoped that getting a few photos of L’Manberg on Christmas would cheer him up since Dream didn’t let him go, but he was beginning to regret his decision as a quiet voice in the back of his head pleaded for him to go back.

He walked the prime path, pensive, as he considered ways to cheer Tommy up.

_I’m gonna figure this out. I’m gonna get Tommy to smile. He hasn’t smiled in so long… he’s much quieter without his laughter. Maybe I could convince someone to visit! Surely they won’t all be busy three weeks in a row?_

He’d wandered towards the community home in hopes of finding someone to invite to Logsted when he bumped into a seemingly shaken-up Eret.

**_Fuck Eret,_ ** his mind helpfully supplied. Ghostbur quietly nodded to himself and made to walk away. 

“Wilbur! Oh thank god you’re here.” Ghostbur squinted at him, frustrated at running into the one person he didn’t want to see. “Tommy’s in trouble.” 

His thoughts came to a screeching halt at Eret’s words, his chest constricting in fear as he rushed to follow the king. _Where is he where is he where is he_ —

“I—I found these things, and I _saw_ him. Here.” Ghostbur didn’t like this, didn’t want to be here, he wanted to go away, he wanted to **_forget_ **. “Dream said… Tommy’s on his last life, Wilbur. He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t… he can’t die so young. I don’t know what’s going on, but if Dream finds out—and I’m sure he somehow will—Tommy’s dead.” 

_No, no, no, not Tommy. Tommy shouldn’t be cold like me, not yet. Tommy shouldn’t forget yet. He_ **_can’t die yet._ **

“I—I need to go after him. Right now. Stay here. We can fix this. _We can fix this._ ” His voice almost sounded like that of a madman, and he briefly wondered if that’s what ~~he~~ Alivebur talked like, as he jumped into the portal. 

“Tommy?” _Why is he so close to the ledge?_ **_Why is he crying?_ **

“Wilbur, what are you doing here?” _He sounds like_ ~~**_I did_ ** ~~ _Alivebur did._

“I… I could ask you the same thing.” _He has to buy time. He has to be sure. Maybe he’s wrong._ “Tommy, why are your things in front of the portal? How did your things get into L’Manberg?” 

“Wil, do you remember? Do you remember your death?” **_no no no no no no no—_ **

“Well, yes, but Tommy what does that—”

“Do you remember what it felt like to lose your purpose?” ~~**_YES_**~~ ** _no no no no no no no_** — “Do you remember when you asked why the disks were so important, Wil? I figured it out. But, the thing is… they’re… _not_. They’re not fuckin important anymore. Isn’t that great? They don’t matter to me now. _Nothing_ matters to me now. No more fighting, no more selfishness, no more liabilities, no more annoyances. _Isn’t that great?_ ” **_NO._**

“Tommy could you _please_ step away from the—”

“Do you remember, Wil, that one line? First spoken by a traitor—by Eret. Then by another—by you. Do you remember, Wilbur?” **_~~Yes, he remembered~~._** Ghostbur knew what was going to happen. **_He couldn’t let this happen._**

“ _Toms please don’t_ —” **_he could make it, he’s so close, if he could just grab onto Tommy_ **—

His brother leaned back with an empty smile and a salute. “It was never meant to be.”

**_“N̸̜͑Ȯ̵̖͍!”_ ** He watched as Tommy slipped through his fingers, falling.

Falling.

**Falling**.

_TommyInnit tried to swim in lava._

Ghostbur was **_scared_ ** , he was **_hurting_ ** , Tommy was **_gone_ ** , he wanted it to **_ṡ̵t̸o̷̔̾p̴̈́_ **. 

He barely noticed Eret rushing towards him through the silver tears in his eyes. “Wil, what happened? _Wil, what happened to Tommy?_ ”

“He said it—he said the line,” he croaked. “He… he said ‘it was never meant to be’ and he—he… Eret, he’s _gone_ . Eret, _I couldn’t save him_ . Tommy’s… Tommy’s **_d̶̰̬̎e̴̘̎ā̴̲͝d̸̪͠._ **”

He didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to go to Logstedshire and see Tommy’s smile and he wanted Tommy to go back to L’Manberg with him and he wanted to **_forget_ **. The pain was too much, he couldn’t take it much longer. All he had to do was forget, and it would all go away… 

_Don’t forget me, Wil._

_Don’t you remember?_

_D̶͈͂o̷̼n̸͍̚'t̸̞̓ ̵̎ͅŷ̷͓o̴̗͛u̶̖͗ ̵̫͗ř̵̦ë̴͇́m̴̩̕ĕ̶̱m̸b̴̀e̷̹͊r̶,̸ W̷͗ì̷l̴̓b̶̓y̷͝?̵̦͐_

He could feel an ache at the back of his brain, but he paid it no mind. He just… couldn’t forget this one. _He had to tell the others._

“Book. Where’s the—the book. Can’t forget…”

“Here,” Eret said, voice wavering as he handed him Tommy’s book. Wilbur’s hands shook as he flipped open to the first page, somewhat shocked to find it full from top to bottom.

_When you read this, you’ll know I’m gone. For good, this time. If I’m being honest, though, I was dead the second I stepped outside of L’Manberg. I doubt you’ll miss me, but even so, I’ve written you a letter. The goodbye I was never allowed to say before my exile. I’ve learned more, in my isolation, and I think this is for the best. This is for the best.  
_

_Concerning my belongings, I’ve emptied my ender chest and put everything into the chest beside my bed in Logsted. All of my possessions will go to Tubbo, my best friend. The disks, though I now see never mattered, are to be given to Dream. No more war. No more liabilities. No more fighting. Tubbo can keep the other if he wants. It doesn’t matter anymore._

_I didn’t want to leave L’Manberg, but I get it now._ **_I had to_ ** _. A part of me doesn’t want to die, but I get that, too._ **_I have to_ ** _. At least I’ll be able to go home one more time._

_Dream,_ ~~_fuck you_ ~~ _~~,~~ you were wrong. It _ **_is_ ** _my time to die. Dream, I_ **_get_ ** _it now. And I_ **_won’t_ ** _be another one of your shitty fucking puppets._ **_Ever_ ** _. I will never bend to your will. Whether I die a hero or a bad guy_ — _I don’t fucking care now. I die on_ **_my_ ** _terms. There’s no letter for you here. There are no other words I want to say to you. Have fun pulling cut strings._

_That said, I’m sorry to everyone else I hurt. I’m sorry for being fuckin selfish. I loved you all. I swear I did. Even if you don’t believe me_ — _even if you never did back. I loved you all. Thank you to those who visited; it meant everything to me. Thank you for the good memories; I hope I can hold on to those where I’m going. See you in hell, Dream. Merry Christmas._

He could barely see past his tears, but he blinked them away to read the first paper one, two, three times over. Frantic, he flipped the page, surprised to notice the first letter was dedicated to him. Eret had begun guiding him towards the portal while his eyes scanned the pages over and over again, reading the letter until all the words were engraved in his mind. 

The circle-shaped wrinkles in the paper did not escape him. Tommy had been _crying_ , all while Wilbur was gone. He’d left Tommy _alone_ , and he’d… he’d… 

_Bye Wilby. I hope… I hope you can find peace. I’m sorry. Bye._

All the blue in the world could not have quieted the sound of his distorted sobs echoing in the nether as he read Tommy’s words. Eret finally led him through to L’Manberg, his sniffles joining Wilbur’s wails.

Wilbur wondered if he’d get to see Tommy again, as they walked the prime path towards the city. ~~_Tommy always loved the prime path_~~ _._ A morbid part of himself had always hoped he’d get to give him a real hug one more time. He never would have thought it’d be like this.

He heard the echoes of laughter drifting through the air as they got closer to the city, and wondered how the world could remain so cruelly untouched after Tommy was gone from it.

“Ghostbur!” Quackity was the first to spot him in the distance, cheerfully waving him over to the campfire they’d set up. “Tubbo just left, but pretty much everyone else is still opening presents! Oh, is that Eret? I thought you were leaving, man!”

Eret didn’t seem to have the composure to reply, instead keeping his eyes trained on the ground. Wilbur liked Quackity ~~_Big Q, Tommy would call him_ ~~ ~~,~~ but his cheerfulness made his chest ache as they got closer to the circle where everyone was gathered. He doubted everyone would take well to the news, especially in the midst of such a joyful celebration.

_Maybe he could still forget, maybe it’s just another nightmare, maybe_ —

“Ghostbur? Why are you crying? What—what happened?” Quackity’s smile faltered and Wilbur barely stopped himself from offering him some blue on instinct. Everyone’s attention had slid onto the pair, and he knew they had to hear. _Like a bandaid. Just… just…_

“Tommy,” he choked on a sob, slapping his hand over his mouth. _Like a bandaid. Just like a bandaid. Just_. “Toms… Tommy—he’s… I left him in Logsted, and he—he—”

Everyone was looking more and more agitated by the second, and Wilbur almost couldn’t bring himself to spit it out. Eret placed a hand on his shoulder and he took a deep breath.

“ **_H̷̞̕ḙ̷'̵s̴ d̷e̵ä̴̜d̸̳̚,_ ** ” he finally rasped. There was a beat of silence, as if the world had finally stopped spinning. All around him, there were varying expressions of horror and confusion, but Wilbur could barely stand to meet their eyes. **_I was too late I was too late I was too late_ **—

Someone finally moved, breaking the tense stillness. Ranboo clutched both of Wilbur’s arms, looking at him with pleading eyes and desperately whispering, “what do you mean? He’s not… he’s not _really_ dead, is he? The—the… the lava in the communicators, it didn’t _really_ kill him, right? Ghostbur?”

Everyone looked up to him imploringly, and he couldn’t take it anymore. **_Like a bandaid…_ **

“Tommy… he jumped into the lava. He took his last life,” he whispered, dissolving into sobs as chaos erupted around him at his words. He hugged the book close to his chest, feeling as if his mind were splitting in two. **_No, I won’t forget, I can’t forget, I’ll never forget Tommy._ **

But the memories didn’t slip away as he had expected them to. 

Instead, they came rushing back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! we're switching perspectives! the next chapter (this is the last one I've prewritten so we're winging it from here lmao) is Tubbo, so if you're not a fan of the alternating points of view and the slight cliffhanger... uh... sorry? dfjldkfshj I tried adding a dash of lightheartedness, but then again I keep piling on angst so,,, 
> 
> anyways, I love ghostbur and all I know is pain. have a nice day :)


	3. the loss of a best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh!! here we are!! uh, thanks for all of you leaving comments, they literally make my day fdghjkd I honestly did not expect anyone to read this, so I'm glad y'all are liking it!! hopefully, I can keep meeting your expectations lmaoo 
> 
> this one is a bit short, but I will hopefully be posting the next sooner bc this is my least favorite chapter so far in terms of my writing :( uh, I also don't have anything written after that yet, so fair warning that the updates will probably slow down by a lot!!
> 
> ok enjoy and take care <3

Tubbo had been preparing for Christmas the entire week. He’d set up the decorations and handed out the invitations, and cleared his schedule for the day. The bags under his eyes served as a testament to how hard he’d worked to arrange everything while still balancing his presidential responsibilities, though they seemed to worry the members of his cabinet. Tubbo quite frankly didn’t have the time or the energy to care, even if it bothered him to see the way they kept on shooting him worried glances.

Sure, a part of him wanted a break from the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he had a whole nation to tend to, and he couldn’t just abandon his people in their time of need. And _sure_ , a part of him wanted to visit Tommy and spend the day happy and carefree like they had every other year, but he had to be there with everyone depending on him. Tubbo didn’t like thinking of ~~his best friend~~ Tommy much, nowadays, though his name always seemed to pop up around him.

_Ha! What an idiot! Look, Tommy died in lava again._

_ <TommyInnit> it’s okay Tommy. You’re going to be okay. _

_Jesus christ, he’s so depressing. He’s gone insane._

Tubbo sighed, shaking his thoughts as he stared into the campfire. Big Q was strumming a song on his guitar and Niki and Puffy were dancing to the side. Even Dream had shown up, though he just sat quietly—alone. Everyone else was laughing or talking or singing, but it still felt… lacking.

He wanted it to be _just right_. 'A festive occasion to have a break from the fighting!' But something was missing, and it made Tubbo want to scream. _Surely someone else notices, right? Surely they all know what’s wrong? What am I doing wrong? What am I missing?_

He caught sight of Ranboo wistfully looking out into the sea, so he walked over and stood by him in an attempt to quiet his thoughts.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked softly, watching the waves crashing below.

“Hm?” Ranboo looked over at the president as if debating what to say. “Oh, nothing… I just… well, I feel a bit bad for Tommy, that’s all. I heard he wanted to spend Christmas here in L’Manberg, and I haven’t seen him at all in a while. I went to visit him a few times, but Dream always waved me off saying Tommy was mining or something.” 

Finally, it clicked. It felt silent because Tommy's laughter and cheerful voice weren't there to fill the air. It felt dull because Tommy wasn't there to joke around. It felt _empty_ because Tommy's place _was_. _He wasn’t there and **Tubbo only had himself to blame** _ .

“Oh. Ah, yeah. Apparently, Dream said he couldn’t come. Ghostbur asked me to visit, but I’ve been so busy…” he trailed off. He _was_ busy and tired, but in truth, a part of him was scared to confront Tommy. He was scared that he’d go visit and be unwelcome. Despised.

As if reading his mind, Ranboo said, “he doesn’t hate you, y’know? He really, _really_ misses you, actually. I know being president isn’t easy, but… I think you should visit him if you get the chance.”

Tubbo bit his lip. _When **would** he get the chance, though, even if Tommy didn't hate his guts? _ “Maybe you’re right… anyway, we should head back. I hear they’ll be opening presents soon.”

_The one thing he wants is the_ **_one_ ** _thing I care about…_

_Wh_ — _What? You’re_ — _you’re my_ **_friend_ ** _!_

_You couldn’t do_ **_one_ ** _thing!_ **_One_ ** _thing for_ **_me_ ** _!_

He went and sat down again, taking a deep breath and pulling up his most convincing smile. If anyone mentioned Tommy again, he would call it a night. Simple. Eret had already left, so he wouldn’t look rude for leaving early. All he had to do was avoid the topic, and—

_TommyInnit tried to swim in lava._

His smile stiffened. Only a beat of silence passed before a few people broke into laughter.

“Oh my god, _again_? How does he keep doing that?”

“Bruh.”

“Is… is he okay?”

“Pfffft he’s really struggling, huh?”

Tubbo couldn’t take a second more. He abruptly stood up and excused himself, claiming it was late and he had to get some sleep. Maybe it was his tired gaze or his disheveled hair, but they seemed almost happy that he was getting rest. _**Maybe they just wanted him to leave**_. His smile seemed to slip off his face as soon as he walked away.

However, instead of home, he found himself walking towards the bench. After a pause, he lowered himself onto the seat and looked out into the night sky, wondering where he went wrong.

It was supposed to be him and Tommy sitting on the bench, looking out into the sunset. All those broken promises and betrayals were never part of the plan. _None of this was ever part of the plan_.

Tubbo heaved a sigh, pushing aside his thoughts and stepping away from the bench to finally head home and rest. 

He only managed to take three steps forward before stopping dead in his tracks, having heard soft sniffles coming from behind him.

Turning around slowly, he felt his heart stop as his gaze landed on the bench once more.

  
“ _Tommy?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer!! the exile was, rationally, kinda the best choice they had, and Tubbo 100000% does NOT "only [have] himself to blame"!! however, he holds a lot of guilt about exiling Tommy, and this is from his perspective!! so!! (please don't come for me dfghjkljhgf I'm actually a tubbo apologist too i swear /lh)
> 
> uh, for the next one, I strongly debated what type of memories Tommy would forget and whether or not it'd be too cruel to switch perspectives (I actually might still do that if it flows better lol) so uh we'll see how that goes!! the timeline is super weird bc there's different scenes going on at the same time that I want to include so it may just end up turning out really blocky and weird, but I honestly hope it's worth reading in the end!! that said, sorry for rambling, and have a nice day <3


	4. the loss of a memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! it's soon!! im back again to bring more pain!! i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (this one is a bit longer than all the others are and probably ever will be, but I think I felt the need to compensate for the last short one, and I just needed a nice place to end it so here we are ok that's all take care bye <3)

Wilbur hadn’t wanted to remember, not really. A part of him hoped he could just push things away until he fulfilled whatever fucked-up purpose dragged him back to life. It really was only a matter of time before the memories he repressed would come back and punch him in the face.

He never would have guessed that _that_ would be the final straw, though.

He never would have thought he’d have to watch his brother die before his eyes, helpless.

**_He never would have believed it’d be his own fault._ **

What was there to do? He… didn’t know. He remembered the insanity and the pain, though he didn’t feel it anymore. He remembered the explosions and the screams, though they were no longer there. He remembered the regret and the fear and the hesitance, and _he couldn’t do anything about it_.

But, oh, he remembered the hatred. And _that_ , he could use.

“Ghostbur,” Dream started amidst the turmoil. No one had noticed the green fuck was still there after they read the letters.

“ **_Wilbur,_ **” he growled, loud enough for everyone to hear. The chaos paused.

“Wh—what?” Dream seemed uncomfortable, but not scared. _Wilbur would make sure he was scared_.

“ **_I said. Wilbur. My name is Wilbur, you manipulative green bitch._ ** ” Dream took a step back. _Good._

“Ok, whatever. You said Tommy… you said he _jumped_ ?” He sounded _irritated_ . He had the _nerve_ to sound _inconvenienced_ by his brother’s death. Wilbur couldn’t help the maniacal laugh that bubbled up his throat as he grabbed Dream by the collar to stare at him in the eyes.

“Don’t you see it, _Dream_ ? Don’t you fucking _get_ it? He’s **_gone_ ** and it’s **_your_ ** fault! All of this is **_your_ ** fault!” He pushed away the voice that said it was his, too. He’d have time for his regret later, after all. “ **_I remember, now, Dream! Can you see it?_ ** Can you see it in my eyes? **_I will end you._ ** I have nothing to lose! So _listen now and listen carefully_.”

He took a deep breath, focusing only on the fear glinting in the green man’s eyes.

“You will _leave_ L'Manberg. You will _never_ come back. If you so much as glance at it, I will _take_ and **_ruin_ ** everything you are. You have _no_ power here anymore. You have _nothing_ , you are **_nothing_ ** . You will follow me to the docks and you will **_ȓ̸͍ǔ̵̦͖n̸͘̕_ ** _f̴o̷̲͂r̵̞̥̒̽ ̵̘̄͛y̸̧̛͉o̷̡͊̋u̸r f̵͕̃͝ư̵c̷͓̗̐̏k̴̦̈i̷̗̓̚n̷͙̏g̴̲͚̓_ **_l̸̬͛͐i̵̓f̷̞̪͂͛ë̵̥́͝_ **.”

Wilbur dragged him all the way to the water, not noticing the stunned silence he left behind.

They paused in front of the shore. “I mean, I _could_ get into this boat and run, but do I really _want_ to? You _really_ think you could kill me, **_ghost_ **?” Dream snarked once they were out of earshot. 

Behind him, Wilbur pulled out his crossbow and shot him in the back, calmly watching as blood stains spread across his green hoodie.

“ _If I really wanted to, yes._ Dream, I _died_ . There is no god in the afterlife, and I **_assure_ ** you there is not a single one walking this earth, so get over yourself and **_get in the boat_ **.”

Dream reluctantly settled into the boat, sending Wilbur a glare. He didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “Do you feel a _hint_ of remorse?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Wilbur sighed. “Goodbye, Dream.”

* * *

Tommy opened his eyes, feeling as if his skin were on fire. He didn’t recognize the strange place he was in, nor did he recall how he had gotten there. The bench he was sat in made his chest ache just a little less, though he wasn’t sure why. _He didn’t remember_. He remembered the pain in his chest, and his regret, his slow descent into apathy. He remembered… falling…

He remembered the cold and then the _burning, burning hot_.

He remembered the dark, hollow nothingness of nonexistence.

He remembered being ripped from the void and pieced together from the agonizing emptiness.

He… _he was missing something, wasn’t he? That—that didn’t seem right. Tommy was_ **_always_ ** _missing something, though. Maybe the world was just what he remembered. Maybe the world was only suffering. Maybe the pain was just another punishment he somehow deserved._

Before he could help it, tears poured down his grey face, bright and burning orange like the lava he recalled so well. 

_Maybe I can just stay here forever. I think I’d like that more than whatever else is out there. If I sit still for long enough, maybe I’ll remember. Maybe I’ll even be lucky enough to not exist again. Maybe I can be safe—_

“ _Tommy?_ ” He froze. For a second, his heart leaped with a warmth he didn’t recognize, but it was quickly replaced with the cold fear he’d grown so used to. _That was his name, how did anyone know his name? He knew that voice, he_ **_knew_ **… 

_Y̴͜o̷̻̅u̸͎͐ ̷̇͜ẅ̶́er̸e̶ ̶̫͗ju̶̅s̶t̶͑ͅ..̴.̴̈ ̷̘̒ŷ̶o̸u̷͑ ̵w̸e̸̜͋r̵e̸̤ ̵̫̍b̸̳͗e̶͚͘ỉ̴̹ñ̵̟g̸ ̵t̵̤͌h̷̪͝é̴̤ m̷͔͊o̸s̴̓t̵ ̵s̴̽ȗ̷s̴̆p̴̈i̷͛ci̴͔͌o̴̦̎ū̵s!_

_T̶͎̎ḫ̵̈e̴ ̴̘͗d̸͎͌i̴̊s̸͝k̸͒s d̴͑o̶̍n̷̕'̵́t̴̓ m̴͛à̸tṭ̵̈́ẻ̴͎r̸, ̷̽w̸̒h̴̿y ̷̄c̶̤͆a̶͇͒n̷̈́'̶͐t̶ ỷ̶̞ò̸͎u̵ s̵͗e̷̞e̸ t̸ȟ̴ȧ̷t̸͂?_

_Ţ̴̡̯͘ö̸̜̭m̶̘͒m̴͓͉̉̀̅ỹ̸̳̙̟͂,̴̠̒͆ͅ ̷̡͊y̷̮̐õ̵̲͈̤̐u̴̫͖̪͂̽̿ ̶͔̻̻̈́̒à̶̦r̸͚̔̄e̸̛͛ ̸̒͊̈h̵̘͆̓e̶̲̝̋͌ȓ̶͎̬̍ę̴̽̍̚b̷̨̳̥̌y̷̤̦͕͆̉ ̶̼̟̘̊̌ȇ̵͔̩͐x̶̤͎̠̒i̵̘͂l̷̫̜͉̃e̸̖̣̜̚͝d̸̔ͅ.̴̳͓̈_

He didn’t turn to face the person behind him, dismissing the voice that urged him to run towards them. _No, no, no, that person didn’t like him. People who don’t like him always hurt him. Tommy didn’t want to be hurt anymore_.

“Tommy! Did Dream change his mind?” He sounded… relieved. Tommy didn’t understand that. He couldn’t remember voices ever speaking so… happily at him. “Oh, I’m _so_ glad you’re here, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Big Man!” The nickname made him feel a strange sensation at the back of his head, but he didn’t know what it was. It felt like a dam, building higher and higher, though he was unaware of how to release the pressure growing behind it. 

Maybe… maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe it would just bring him more pain. Tommy didn’t want more pain; he wanted it to **_stop_ ** . _That_ feeling he knew. The feeling of wanting his misery to end.

Maybe the guy behind him wanted to bring more pain. Maybe he was _lying—_ Tommy remembered liars all too well. He was, quite honestly, scared of them. He was scared of the guy behind him, too, and Tommy remembered what he did when he was scared.

He ran.

“Tommy? Where are you going?” The brunet yelled, chasing after him. They ran along a strange wood path, approaching a group of buildings made of spruce on top of a water-filled canyon. Loud voices carried through the air from the unfamiliar place, but he just wanted to _get away_ , and his feet seemed to lead him towards it instinctively. ~~The dam was shaking, begging to be let free. Tommy didn’t listen .~~

He spotted a small crowd further ahead, but he _really_ didn’t want to get caught by his pursuer, so he ran straight to it. _Fuck fuck fuck I need to get away, I need to get away, if I can just—_

“Tommy?!” He looked up and found himself surrounded. They were all shouting and crying, but he could barely see them past his fear. _Mistake, mistake, mistake, I’m such a fuck up._ He glanced at the faces around him and recognition sparked in his eyes. He felt himself crumple to the ground as he realized everyone there would only hurt him more.

_Point and laugh at him!_

_I hate you so much, Tommy._

_It was never meant t—_

**_NO! No no no stop it stop it stop it—_ **

There. A face he _didn’t_ recognize at all.

He scrambled over and hid behind the weird half-enderman guy. He wasn’t shouting—only crying. He startled at Tommy’s sudden movement towards him as if he were scared. Tommy understood that. He felt a little safer behind the tall kid, but he knew the terrors of the world, and he knew what people could do when they were scared.

“ _Please… don’t hurt me_ ,” he silently pleaded, his echoing voice barely audible over the chaos. Everyone still froze, somehow, silence falling over the group as their eyes finally took him in.

“I won’t,” the kid promised softly, pushing down a sob. Tommy hoped he was telling the truth.

“Tommy—” a blonde lady started, but he didn’t know her voice or face, either. 

“How do you know my name?” He clutched onto the half guy’s pant leg, trying to keep a quiver from his voice.

“Do you… do you not remember me, Tommy?” Heartbreak spilled from her tone, and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. “I’m… it’s me, Niki! Don’t you remember?”

“Niki…” he mumbled, grinning when he didn’t recognize her name. The expression strained his face, but it was one of the few pains he didn’t recall. Maybe… maybe it was a good thing? ~~Drops were spilling from the dam, cracks forming, yet it still stood tall~~ ~~.~~ “Niki! I don’t remember you!”

She seemed to slump down, but he didn’t understand why. _That means she didn’t hurt me! Why does she look so sad?_

“Thank you… Niki.” She looked up at him, confusion swirling in her bloodshot eyes. “I don’t remember you! You didn’t hurt me! I didn’t think that was possible…”

Everyone else looked more confused than before, but Niki just ran to him and pulled him into a hug, flinching once they made contact, but still holding on tight. Tommy couldn’t help the tears, though he felt safer than he ever remembered. _Maybe there’s more than pain, maybe—_

“Phil and Techno are on their way. Dream’s gone,” a voice yelled from behind the crowd. Everyone’s heads snapped towards it, so Tommy took a tentative peek as Niki released him from her hold. Memories flooded his mind once more, and he yelped and hid behind his two… allies?

“W— _Wilbur_ ?” Niki said. ‘ _Wilbur_ ’ looked over at her and then at Tommy, brightening once they met eyes. _Oh god oh fuck_ —

“Tommy! You’re here!” He cried, rushing closer. Tommy closed his eyes, bracing himself for some kind of pain to hit. Nothing happened. Instead, an image of that same man falling over in a button room displayed at the forefront of his mind like a tattered piece of film.

“Wh—how are you here? You—the… blond guy killed you…” His voice caught on the last sentence, but the sentiment came across. Wilbur faltered.

“You—oh, you… don’t remember? I’m… I’m a ghost now! Just like you.” _Why is Wilbur crying wait wait wait_ —

_I only remember the good things!_

_Sorry, Tommy, I don’t remember._

_I’m_ **_not_ ** _Wilbur._

His head ached. The pieces didn’t fit together. _Why would he be sad about him_ ** _not_** _being Wilbur? Wasn’t Wilbur mean? Didn’t Wilbur hate him?_ “O—oh… you—you don’t remember either, right? You’re… Ghostbur. You don’t remember the things I do, do you?” 

“What _do_ you remember, Tommy?” the man in the blue sweater asked. Tommy’s eyes darkened as memories of that same man rushed into his head. 

“I remember you,” he said, cowering further behind Niki and the tall guy. “You and the fuckin… goat bitch exiled me—the first time round.” The man wilted a bit, and Tommy only felt worse at seeing his sadness, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“I remember—I remember the _war_ , and the _fighting_ , and the _explosions_ , and the **_blood_ ** . I remember the loneliness, and the pain, and the feeling that I was going mad. I remember the hurt and the… the static and the mean words.” He was crying again, his vision too blurry to see the increasing looks of horror on everyone around him. “And I remember the—the _cold_ and then the christmas tree, and then… the lava. I remember most things, I think. I—I don’t want to, though. They’re… they’re all bad. I don’t want to believe that’s all there is, but… please… just don’t hurt me…” he trailed off, wincing at how much he had said.

“Tommy…” The brunet was speaking again, and Tommy prepared himself for all the hateful comments he had once endured. “You—you remember me, don’t you?”

He sounded… tired. Broken, just like him. Tommy’s green shirt reminded him of the guy, for some reason. They had matching eyebags, too. He wondered if they were friends in some other universe—some other lifetime.

~~**_Tubbo, I trust you._ ** ~~

~~**_He’s my best friend!_ ** ~~

~~**_Ẅ̵̙ē̴ c̸o̸u̶̚l̶d̸̋ r̵u̵͝n̵̳̂ ̷̾a̵w̷̛a̷̘̎y̵, ̵̹͠jư̸š̶t̷̪̎ ̶y̴̼̎o̷u̴̽ ̴͙̎a̸̕n̵̕d̵̙͝ I̷.̵̠̏_ ** ~~

“I remember… a little. You… you thought I was a traitor, and that hurt me, for some reason I can’t remember. You tried throwing me into lava for something I did wrong, and that hurt me, too. You exiled me, and you never came to visit, even though Dream said you could. I’m—I’m sorry for whatever I did. I remember wanting to apologize more than anything before… but I never got the chance to. So I’m sorry. I _really_ am.”

“Tommy, I—”

“What’d we miss?” Tommy whipped around towards the source of the shout, watching as two figures approached them, clad with wintry clothes and blue shields.

  
“Techno, Phil.” Wilbur nodded at both of them as they arrived. _He remembered them,_ _but the memories were as unpleasant as all the rest._ “We have some catching up to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all im ngl i wanted wilbur to kill dream so bad but then it'd have to show up in the chat and it was too late to write it in I'm SORRY ;-; I'm glad I somehow managed to fit both perspectives I wanted in this chapter, though I'm not sure if the end result seems weird lol
> 
> for extra angst, remember that (as far as they knew) ghosts only remembered good things, so Wilbur thought that Tommy had been happy about his death and all that haha. also, remember when Tommy said "Thank you for the good memories; I hope I can hold on to those where I'm going"? haha yeah rip
> 
> if anyone has any trouble reading the cursed text, uh, maybe copy and paste it into a comment and I can let you know what it says? this applies for any other chapters, too. uh, sorry if it's an inconvenience lmao, they're not really all that necessary to get what's going on anyway, so don't feel obligated!!
> 
> also, shoutout to that one person who commented "please don't only keep sad memories" last chapter I'm so fucking sorry I was literally laughing my ass off at your comment fgdhjklds <3<3<3


	5. can the things we lost still be found?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa sorry for the delay!! uh, busy season and all, and I hit a little writer's block while writing, so hopefully this turned out okay. fair warning that updates will probably slow down from here on out, just in case you weren't aware!!
> 
> take care and enjoy!! happy holidays to those who celebrate!! (even if they've passed by the time I post lmao)

“You’re saying… Tommy wrote this, and—and _jumped?_ ” Technoblade sounded as though he were on the verge of crying, which Ranboo understood, but didn’t expect. He’d heard stories of him—Techno, the feared warrior, the wanted anarchist, the bloodthirsty traitor. Breaking before their very eyes. Ranboo didn’t quite know what to do.

Clearly, Tommy shared his sentiment as the ghost’s hands gripped his and Niki’s arms tighter. Ranboo felt tears welling up in his eyes again, but he swiftly pushed them down. _Tommy was always brave and reckless, Ranboo knew. He’d snark at the enemy with a grin, even when they had the upper hand over him. He always looked so cheery and energetic; no one ever noticed how much pain he’d hidden away. Ranboo had to be brave for_ **_him_ ** _this time._

“That—that _can’t_ be his last death, right?” Phil pleaded, desperately searching Wilbur’s eyes. “He—he’s coming back, right? He can come back, _right?_ ”

A few people hadn’t stopped crying, and Ranboo wanted nothing more than to join them. He could barely stand to watch as Phil collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. 

“Oi, tall bitch,” Tommy whispered, inaudible to the others over their wails. Ranboo almost smiled at the way he was addressed, though it was quickly lost under his grief.

He could barely speak past the solid lump that had formed in his throat. “My name’s Ranboo. What’s up?” Even as he managed to choke out a few words, he couldn’t hide the frailness of his voice as he spoke to the sad ghost.

“ _Ranboo_ ,” he said, sounding nearly bewildered before his expression shifted back into a somber look. “Are—are they gonna hurt me?” He sounded resigned. As if he’d already accepted the idea that people only wanted to cause him _harm_.

“ _No._ No, Tommy, they won’t _ever_ hurt you again. No one will.” Ranboo made sure to sound as resolute and sincere as he could, though Tommy still looked unsure.

“How do you _know?_ I—I just don’t wanna feel the misery anymore… _Ranboo_ . What makes you so sure that I shouldn’t just… _run?_ Run until I stop existing? Until everything stops?”

“Us. _Me._ You—you have _me_ , Tommy. I _promise_ I’ll protect you, ok? You won’t get hurt, you can trust me, I _promise_ .” _Please don’t go, please don’t go, please, we can’t bear to lose you twice_ —

“I…” He sighed, searching Ranboo’s eyes as if to find a lie within them. The eye contact made him squirm, but he just had to endure it for a bit before Tommy made his decision. “Ok. I’ll stay. I trust you. Just a bit.”

Ranboo almost leaped with joy before he noticed the way Tommy clutched his head and curled up onto the ground as soon as he finished speaking.

“ _Tommy?!_ ” Ranboo ducked down to see what was wrong. Everyone turned to look at them, noticing the way the ghost’s drab yellow hair looked a little brighter, and the bags under his eyes seemed to lighten just a bit. _What the fuck what the fuck what the_ —

His eyes shot open, and for a second, Ranboo thought they were the same bright blue they used to be. 

“Oh! We—we burnt George’s house down!” He exclaimed, a bright grin on his face. Ranboo winced, remembering the trial that had followed their actions. _The exile that had caused Tommy’s death, all because_ — “I remembered just now!”

“Oh. I’m—I’m sorry, Tommy, I never meant to hurt you, I know—”

“ _No!_ It’s… it’s a _good_ one! I…” his voice broke, “I remember something _good_ . I was—was _happy_ once.”

The ‘once’ didn’t escape anyone’s notice, but the hope he’d just given them was too bright to ignore.

“That’s great, Tommy!” Niki smiled gently, rubbing her glassy eyes. “How did you remember?”

“Oh, I…” his smile slipped away instantaneously. “I don’t know… I’m sorry…”

“No! No, this is a good thing, Tommy!” Ranboo quickly assured him. “This means that maybe you can get all your other memories back, too! The good ones!”

“There’s _more?_ ” Stars seemed to swim in his icy grey eyes as bright tears made their way down his face once more. 

“Of course, Tommy,” Niki promised. “There’s _so much_ more to life than pain. Sometimes it’s hard to see past the hurt, but that’s what _we’re_ here for! To remind you that there’s more. _We’re here._ ”

Tommy smiled, and it wasn’t as bright as how they used to be, but it was brighter than before. _They can still fix this. They can be okay. All they have to do is… is…_

“Um, considering we know Tommy can get his memories back…” Quackity spoke up, clearing the thickness from his voice. “What do we do now?”

“About what?”

“Well, Tommy’s… he only remembers bad things right now. This—this isn’t like Ghostbur, where he was just fucking happy to be here and do whatever and live in the sewers, this…” He sighed, pausing his pacing. “Look, we don’t know much about ghosts. We don’t know if they leave, and Tommy’s in so much goddamn _pain_ , and I know we all _hate_ to see him like that, and we _need_ to get his memories back, so what the _fuck_ are we gonna do?”

Silence hung above the group as they considered their next move, broken only by the sounds of sniffles and the remnants of muffled cries. 

“I…” Ranboo startled as Tommy’s hollow voice echoed from behind him. “I’d—I’d like to stay with Ranboo or—or Niki if that’s okay for now? Just… just while I get my memories back, I reckon. Maybe even next door or something, I… I just don’t want to be alone again…”

“Hey, you won’t be alone, okay?” It took every ounce of control in Ranboo’s body to stop his voice from cracking. The lump still hadn’t left his throat. “You know, there’s actually this… this basement… apartment thing below my home that you might like. You, uh, actually…” he let out a humorless chuckle, remembering the way Tommy had sworn up and down that he’d never get exiled that day. “You built it yourself.”

“I… yeah, ok. Thank you, Ranboo. I—I’m sorry, I have nothing to give you in return…” The ghost trailed off, and Ranboo made to tell him he didn’t expect anything in return.

“Well, we’re gonna have to go to Logstedshire at some point,” Wilbur interjected, shifting a bit as everyone turned to look at him. His voice sounded raspy and his hands hadn’t stopped trembling, but he did his best to seem confident. “May as well get it over with. Maybe… maybe _something_ there can help jog Tommy’s memory. At the very least, he’ll get his things back.”

“There’s not much there anyway. And didn’t I… I don’t know, write a fuckin will or something? I mean, I’m _dead_. How much of this am I actually gonna need? You all probably deserve it more than I do,” Tommy mumbled, shrinking in on himself just a little further.

“A few of us can go, and you can determine what you want to keep,” Wilbur shrugged. His voice was so gentle, it was hard to imagine he was the same man who had threatened Dream’s life moments ago. “The rest will go to… well, Tubbo, I guess. That’s what you said in… that’s what you wanted.” 

“Tubbo? Which one—who’s Tubbo? I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t remember any names besides… _Dream_.” The ghost sounded petrified just at the name, and Ranboo suddenly wished he’d gotten the chance to punch him before Wilbur dragged him away. However, his thoughts came to a halt as he noticed a shaky hand go up in the air. 

Tubbo sat curled up on the floor, clutching the green bandana Wilbur brought in his other hand like a lifeline. His shoulders were shaking but he hadn’t made a sound since he last spoke. Ranboo wanted to go over to provide him some kind of comfort, but he could barely breathe past his own grief.

“Oh. It’s you.” Tommy sounded surprisingly neutral. Tubbo only seemed to shrink in on himself further. “Okay, then. I guess we should head to the island now. Anyone got a boat?”

“I think some of you should get some sleep first. It’s late, and it’s been… a rough day. As I said, a small group can go right now, and maybe the others can visit later on. In the meantime, you all need to rest well.” Wilbur waved the dispirited crowd away. A part of Ranboo wanted to follow them and settle into bed to process everything that had just happened, but the other knew he _couldn’t_ leave Tommy alone. 

Techno and Phil had refused to leave, along with Ranboo himself. Tubbo and Wilbur didn’t quite have a choice, though neither of them showed any desire to leave in the first place. “Okay, so now that they’re gone, we could head to the portal; it’s quicker that way.”

“ **_Wait, wait wait._ ** I thought we were taking the boats?” Tommy was grasping onto his arm tighter and tighter, breathing quickening and eyes flickering around as though he were preparing to run.

“Shit. Uh, Tommy, don’t worry. Just breathe. It’s okay! We can take the boats if you want,” he quickly amended. Tommy looked skeptical at first, but he slowly released his iron grip on Ranboo’s arm as they walked closer to the ocean.

They rowed their boats in silence, and it took everything in Ranboo to keep his calm. He winced whenever water splashed onto him, and he felt as if he were suffocating under the tense atmosphere. The turbulent motion of the waves nauseated him, and he’d never wished he was in L’Manberg more. 

_He wondered if that’s what Tommy felt as he made the same voyage with Dream._

_He wondered if it had hurt more, knowing he couldn’t go back._

_He wondered if—_

“Ranboo,” Tommy whispered, tightly clutching his arm as their boat came to a stop. “We’re here.”

Ranboo felt a pang in his chest as they climbed out of the boats and onto the abandoned land.

“Home, sweet home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking abt how c!Tommy views gifts and attempts to reach out as "pity shit" because he's grown so used to having to give things up for recognition and to "earn" that validation—to the point that he thinks he's not deserving of it and they're all looking down on him instead. so even though he's lonely as fuck, he pushes people away, which also makes sense considering he's probably scared of having such attachments since they've only ever been used against him or taken away.
> 
> also damn it looks like we're changing title format :( I,,, have no idea what I'm doing sdfksfgjd I considered adding the rest of the story as the secont part of a series since the work title really doesn't apply much anymore, but honestly? i just didn't want to. 
> 
> anyways I'm so glad tommy decided to lay off on the angst hours I know I'm literally writing an angst fic but pLEASE SIR—


	6. something we left behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn bitch you live(d) like this???

Darkness blanketed the campsite, shadows dancing under the dim moonlight as the fabric of the tents billowed in the wind. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore sounded deafening in the blank silence that seemed to engulf the land. Not a torch was lit; not a hint of warmth seeped through the harsh frost.

It was exactly what Tommy remembered. 

He’d had a trace of hope, of course. Those people had promised him things were better, and Tommy wanted to believe them more than anything, even if he couldn’t quite fit the image into his head. Despite everything, that flicker of hope refused to be put out after igniting in his chest.

He supposed that was his mistake. Hoping never got him anywhere in his memories. In the end, all he got was cold. All he got was static. All he got was _—_

“Left? Uh, sure, you two can go there while we sort out the belongings.” Ranboo’s voice dragged Tommy out of his thoughts, startled to find their small group was already splitting up. Techno and Phil headed to the wooden structure, and the rest headed to the tent on the right.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, they’re leaving me,_ **_they’re leaving me again, I have to go, I have to follow them._ **

He quietly rushed to Ranboo’s group as they approached his old tent. Wilbur and Ranboo were sat on the floor next to the chest he’d left, slowly pulling out items he once owned. 

At first, it had been slightly... _enjoyable_. They’d show him an object like a pickaxe or some emeralds and he’d just have to choose if he wanted them or not. However, one that particularly caught his attention—an old book that sparked a feeling of humor deep within his mind—was quickly discarded into the fire as soon as the first page was read. Tommy wasn't too perturbed, figuring it was probably for the best. He'd lost greater things in the fire, anyway.

The frail tranquility and rhythm they had gained shattered when they procured a few torn-out pages. Tommy immediately knew what they had written on them, but the pair was already reading them out loud.

“ _Dream. I can’t begin to describe all the thoughts in my head from how much my mind has been fucked with in the past. To put it simply, I was desperate for company. I thought yours was better than being alone. But as much as it pains me to say it, I was very, very wrong. But I_ **_am_ ** _sorry, Dream. You made me destroy my armor and progress every day, and by the end of this miserable fucking life I lit the TNT myself. I’m sorry I did. You told me you were my friend, and I honestly started to believe it for a while. I’m sorry I did. You wanted to break me and watch my every move because you were **scared** of a **child** , but I'm tired of the fighting, and **I’m giving up**. I’m sorry I am. But you pushed too far. Y'know, I wrote another letter to you a while back. I thought you were my only friend. I thought you were my _ **_friend_** _, but I see how **stupid** that was. Because no, Tommy doesn’t get friends. Tommy gets used, time and time again. Tommy gets thrown away in a heartbeat. Tommy gets fucked over, and no one bats an eye. _ **_I’ve had enough_** _. I’ve had enough. Fuck you. I hope you burn in hell as much as I will._ ”

Tommy’s shoulders had risen to his ears by the time Wilbur had managed to whisper out the last words. Tubbo still hadn’t made a sound, though a few tears managed to slip through his tightly shut eyes. Ranboo was nearly tearing the paper in his hand.

The stillness made Tommy’s skin crawl, so he began desperately looking around for some sort of distraction to fill the stiff silence. He spotted a small collection of vinyls lying, untouched, in the chest and jumped at the opportunity to move on, ignoring the small hum in his heart as he reached out to grab them.

“What are these?” He traced his fingers across the grooves on the disc he held. He could feel the gaps in his memory aching to be filled, yet his mind remained blank. The rest of the group only seemed to freeze further as he gazed at the vinyl in wonder, blissfully unaware of the sorrow they were hiding.

“That’s… those are your discs, Tommy,” Wilbur explained, though his voice sounded incredibly strained. Tommy wondered what part of the picture he was missing when he noticed the distress in their expressions. “They were nearly all that mattered to you in the wars. You—you were going to give them to Dream, but he’s… he’s gone now.”

Tommy froze once more, hands beginning to shiver against his will. “ _Dream?_ ”

Oh, how he remembered Dream. Everything the letters said and more. The taunts, the torture, the threats. The pieces still didn’t fit together, and Tommy was getting tired of not being able to see the bigger picture.

“Hey, hey, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Wilbur spoke softly, and Tommy pushed down his frustration as he chanted the words in his mind. “Do you want the discs?”

“I… I don’t know.” He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, debating what to say. After a beat of silence, he handed them over to Wilbur. “I—I reckon one of you would get a better use out of them…”

“Oh…” Wilbur’s voice had an emotion that Tommy couldn’t quite decipher—one that made him worry he’d chosen wrong. “Right, well, I think… Tubbo should get them, then. That’s—that’s what you’d have wanted.”

Tubbo’s head snapped up at hearing his name, and if Tommy hadn’t been looking, he may have missed the horror swirling in his puffy eyes. “I—I can’t…” he croaked, voice unsteady and weak. “Surely not, I—”

“He’d want you to have them,” Wilbur interrupted, placing the discs in the brunet’s shaking hands. Tubbo brought the discs close to his chest but otherwise stayed silent. “Right, then I’m gonna go check up on Techno and Phil. Ranboo?”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” he replied, standing up and gesturing for Tommy to follow them. They walked towards a wooden structure, wandering along the coast to steer clear from the nether portal standing menacingly on the dirt path. Tommy tried to pay it no mind as they walked past it and through the gateway.

They took stock of their surroundings, looking for the others out in the open. Tommy guessed they were still in the blue structure which muffled sobs were reverberating from, though he couldn’t come up with any reason as to why they’d be crying. 

_Tommy remembered… betrayal. He remembered blood and pain. He remembered deadly fireworks, aimed at someone trapped in a box. He remembered the old tale of a tragic hero, shouted above the sound of explosions as blood-stained hands brought two wretched beasts to life. Tommy remembered… terror. He remembered being last picked, least loved. He remembered being left without a single goodbye. He remembered a diamond sword, mercilessly reaping a lost soul before his very eyes._

No, Tommy couldn’t think of a single reason as to why they would mourn his death.

“Hey, look,” Ranboo said, snapping Tommy out of his spiral, though his voice was slightly subdued. He pointed to the mushroom cow standing next to a log that seemed to exude a powerful energy. “It’s Mushroom Henry.”

“Oh. I don’t remember him.” Tommy frowned and glanced over to Wilbur and Ranboo, who were both looking at him.

Sympathy flickered across their faces, and Tommy felt a familiar feeling begin to churn in his stomach. A wave of anger engulfed him at their _pity_.

He hated the feeling of not knowing, the feeling of being seen as weak and frail. He hated the tears pooling at his eyes and the mournful expressions they bore. He hated the deep sadness and hurt in his heart, and he hated the rage that instinctively began to cover it up.

“I—I need a moment. Sorry.” They looked as though they were about to object to his departure, but Tommy was already speeding away. He considered walking into the woods to cool off—finding the trees to bring him a slight comfort—but the sound of music drew him back to his old tent.

The tune was familiar—jarringly so. He began to approach the jukebox on the beach but stopped short after seeing a figure hunched over it, crying. The quiet sobs were covered up by the mellow tune echoing through the night, but Tubbo’s shaking shoulders gave him away. Tommy wondered why it stung so much to see the other in pain, still remaining out of sight despite the voice in his mind telling him to go nearer.

“I wasn’t there, _why wasn’t I there?_ ” Tubbo wept, and Tommy was filled once more with the inexplicable urge to reach out and comfort him, despite the sharp memories cutting away at his heart.

Thankfully, he saw Ranboo approaching them and figured the half-enderman would be better at providing comfort than Tommy ever could. He began to sneak away, not wanting to be seen, lest they get mad and lose whatever goodwill they had somehow mustered towards him.

Before walking away, he managed to see Tubbo handing Ranboo the discs, muttering something along the lines of “they used to make him happy” and “maybe they can help”. Ranboo’s protests were much easier to hear, though they quieted down after Tubbo pleaded, “I—I don’t think I can bear to listen to them alone… not yet. Maybe in the future, but… I just—I just can’t now. _Please_. Take them.”

The music stopped, and Tommy finally noticed the warmth that had settled in his chest at hearing the melody. He wondered if the warmth was normal—if it was something he would be able to get used to. He wondered if it was something he deserved. 

He shook off his thoughts and watched as the others walked out of Logstedshire, quietly nearing him on the beach. He didn’t comment on their bloodshot eyes, and they made no move to approach him any closer than he’d already gotten.

The longer he spent there, reminiscing upon miserable times, the antsier he got. A permanent sense of cold fear had settled along his spine, but it seemed to wane slightly at times and places he couldn’t describe. Logstedshire was not one of those places.

After a while of waiting in tense silence, Tubbo and Ranboo met them at the shore, and Tommy heaved a small sigh of relief.

“Is it time? Can we go?” Tommy quietly asked Ranboo, his echoey voice carrying through the still woods nonetheless. 

“Yeah.” They began boarding their boats, and Tommy felt the tension slip away from his shoulders the further they sailed, as the desolate island faded out of view. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, just a note since Techno did say sbi as a family isn't canon!! uh, well, I kinda wrote this before I knew that, so for now in this fic we're just pretending they *are* related and Phil was low-key a bad dad lmao 
> 
> btw, the paper Ranboo was holding in the tent just had "I'm sorry" written all over it in shaky handwriting. just in case y'all were wondering :')
> 
> this may be the last update of the year, considering I have yet to write the next chapter and this time of year is quite busy, but hopefully the next update won't take *too* long!! I had a bit of a moment where I felt like this fic wasn't worth continuing bc I was being really critical of myself, but I guess it's better to at least give it a try instead of giving up because it's not perfect in quality lmao. I've been really worried about where to take and end the story, so here's to hoping this doesn't absolutely suck haha
> 
> also??? this fic hit 10k words??? this was supposed to be three chapters??? how did I get here??? (thanks for all the love btw, I don't really know how many hits or comments or bookmarks or kudos are a lot but I sure do appreciate y'all!! happy holidays and take care <3)

**Author's Note:**

> national suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255 (please take care y'all <3)


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